He could fly, and he was braver than he had any right to be. Good old Wedge.
Here they came. A dozen ships like his own.
"Good to see you again, Luke. I hope you've got something interesting cooked up for us; things have been a little slow lately." "Well, if you want to talk about bad cooking, you'll need to speak to Lando-" "I heard that," Lando said over the comm.
Luke grinned at the Falcon where it flew on his port side.
"Just a joke, Lando." "Hey, Calrissian, long time. I figured you'd be in jail by now." "Not yet, Antilles, not yet." "Follow us, Luke," Wedge said, "we've got camp set up on a little moon called Kile in the planet shadow opposite Gall. We've fixed it up real nice, got air, grav- ity, water, all the comforts of home." "Lead on," Luke said. "We're right behind you." "You call this 'real nice'?" Leia said as she looked around at the interior of the cast-plast prefab building Rogue Squadron had set up as a base. It was basically four walls and a roof and looked like a cross between a warehouse and a hangar, with exposed plastic beams and not much else. It was cold, and it smelled like burned rock. "I'd hate to see a place you thought was not real nice." Wedge smiled. "Well, you know the Rogues. All we need is a ship and rock to land it on." "You got that second part right." Wedge led them to a corner of the chilly building where a table and a holoproj unit had been set up. A man sat sprawled in one of the one-piece cast-plast chairs, looking as if he were asleep.
He didn't really look anything like Han-he had red hair and pale skin-but something about the way he sat.
He might have been asleep, but his eyes flicked open fast and he looked awake by the time they got there.
He was tall, lean, had green eyes. He wore freighter togs, a gray coverall, and a bolstered blaster slung low on his hip. He looked to be about Han's age, Leia fig- ured, and he had that same lazy, insolent look about him. He came to his feet and made a low, sweeping, theatrical bow.
"Princess Leia," he said. "How delightful of you to visit us here in our humble castle, Your Highness." He waved at the big empty room and grinned.
Leia shook her head. Could Han have a long-lost brother? Did these guys take lessons in how to speak smartmouth?
Lando said, "This is Dash Rendar, thief, card cheat, smuggler, and an okay pilot." Dash's grin increased. "What do you mean, 'okay pilot,' Calrissian? I can fly rings around you in a one- winged hopper with a plugged jet." "And modest, too," Leia said.
Dash bowed low. "I see that the princess has a keen eye to go with her stunning beauty." Oh, brother, Leia thought. This guy was going to lead them to Boba Fett?
"Bottle the serpent oil, Dash," Lando said. "Let's take care of business." "First good idea you've had in years, Lando," Dash said.
Lando made introductions. "So you know who Princess Leia is, and you know Chewie. This is Luke Skywalker." Luke stepped forward, and the two men nodded at each other.
"Have we met? You look familiar." "You might have seen me on Hoth," Dash said. "I was delivering a shipment of food stores when the shield went up. I flew a snowspeeder during the battle while waiting my turn to leave." Luke nodded. "That's right. You took down one of" the Imperial walkers, I remember now. You were pretty good." Dash flashed the bright smile again. "Pretty good? I slept through most of that battle, kid. I could have stayed and knocked those walkers over all day without raising my heartbeat, if I hadn't had an appointment to pick up paying cargo elsewhere." Leia shook her head. What was it with men? It was a wonder they didn't knock themselves down, patting themselves on the back so hard. Did she really need to get involved with another hotshot braggart?
Well, yes. If he could take them to where Han was being held prisoner, she could stand it.
Wedge said, "We've done a little recon work, couple of flybys. Let me show you the layout." He moved to the holoprojector controls.
Luke watched as Wedge began showing them the ho- lographic maps and recorded images of the moon where Boba Fett's ship was supposed to be docked. If they could believe this Dash Rendar. He was pretty good at shining his own light, that was for sure, and yeah, he had done okay during the fight on Hoth, but Luke wasn't so sure about this guy.
Still, Lando seemed to think they could trust Dash's judgment, as long as he was well paid.
Luke had to smile at that. Han had seemed like nothing more than a mercenary smuggler when they'd first met, and pretty quick to let people know what a terrific pilot he was, too. It wasn't until later that Luke realized that was just a public mask, a facade behind which Han hid so nobody would know how much he really cared. Maybe there was more to Dash Rendar than met the eye, too.
Wedge said, "... moon has some bad atmospheric conditions, big cyclonic storms that get real mean, mostly in the southern hemisphere. You wouldn't want to try to fly through one of those." Dash laughed. "Maybe you wouldn't want to, Antil- les, but I eat thunderstorms for breakfast." Or maybe there isn't more to him, Luke thought.
Maybe he's just crazy.
Wedge continued the briefing. The Imperial Enclave was home base to two Star Destroyers-turned out the carrier was just a rumor-but that was plenty. Luke knew that a standard Destroyer carried a wing of TIE fighters, each wing made up of six squads, which meant seventy-two TIEs per Destroyer. A hundred and forty- four of them against the twelve in Rogue Squadron.
Well. Thirteen, counting Luke's ship. That made the odds a hair less than twelve to one. Not so bad com- pared to some battles they'd been in.
He grinned. It was a measure of how lopsided the war between the Empire and the Alliance was when twelve-to-one odds didn't seem so bad.
As Luke listened, he started thinking about a plan.
Simpler the better, he figured.
Wedge finished his briefing. "That's about it. What do you think, Luke?" "Piece of cake," Luke said. "I know just how to do it." Leia and Lando both looked at him as if he'd turned into a big spider. He grinned again.
In his sanctum Xizor grinned at the information floating holographically before him. Well, well. The misguided young man who had seen fit to try to kill him-what was his name? Hoff?-had gained access to the protected corridor through an Imperial checkpoint a mere few hundred meters away. And here was an odd coincidence-the guard who had been on duty at that checkpoint had mysteriously vanished. So whatever subterfuge the dead man had used would never be known, him being dead and the guard having disap- peared.
Xizor would bet half his fortune against a bent decicred that the absent guard would never be heard from again, either. Somebody had caused the guard to allow the would-be assassin to pass, and whoever that was, they did not wish their involvement known, Xizor was also sure of that.
He considered it. His enemies were legion, were myriad, at the very least, and many of them would hap- pily see him dead. A single guard would be easy enough to bribe and get rid of; a hundred of his foes here on Coruscant might be in a position to do that.
Who hated him the most? A difficult question, there being so many.
Who was likely to have the nerve to make such an attempt? Here was another matter. Black Sun was nearly invulnerable, and while many would cheerfully lop off its leader's head if they thought they could get away with it, not many would be so certain they could do the deed undetected. So narrow that down to some- body powerful, somebody who might, should it be- come known, survive not only Black Sun's wrath, but the possible ire of the Emperor himself.
Well, that narrowed it down a whole lot more.
Xizor leaned back in his chair and steepled his fin- gers. This was a little game he sometimes played with himself, pretending that he was using reason and logic to arrive at a conclusion he had already made intuitively.
He knew who had caused the attack, just as he knew it had not really been meant to succeed. It was no more than a small thorn set in his path, a tiny sticker upon which he was to step and be irritated, no more.
A small grief offered to his person by a man who feared neither Black Sun nor the Emperor's displeasure.
There was
only one such man.
Xizor was tempted to hire a dozen assassins, not tell them who their target was, and loose them on Vader.
The killers would fail, of course, be squashed like in- s.ects by Vader with less effort than Xizor had expended on the man in the walkway. Vader could kill with a wave of his hand, though he enjoyed a chance to use his lightsaber from time to time.
But-no. That might foul Xizor's plans to appear to be Vader's friend-or at least, not his enemy. If Xizor could figure out who had been party to the pathetic attempt on his life without any evidence save his feel- ing, Vader could also determine who might be brave enough to send shooters after him.
Certainly he would be quick to at least consider that it was a retaliation in kind for the attack on Xizor.
No. Satisfying as it might be to worry Vader with an attack, it would not be prudent, given the larger plan.
But it was good to know that Vader disliked him enough to want to see him dead.
Leia laughed. "That's your plan?" Luke looked indignant. "What's wrong with it?" His breath made fog-vapor in the cold room.
"You and Rogue Squadron will attack the Imperial Enclave, keep a hundred and some-odd TIE fighters and two Star Destroyers busy while Dash leads the Mil- lennium Falcon to where Boba Fett's ship is docked?
We'll just land, rescue Han, and fly away? Why, noth- ing is wrong with that plan. What could I possibly be thinking was wrong? It's perfect." She shook her head.
"Okay, so it's simple-" Luke began.
"Simpleminded," Leia said.
He set his jaw. Uh-oh. She'd insulted his manhood.
She knew that look.
"If you have a better idea... ?" Luke said, his voice tight.
Leia sighed. That was the problem. She didn't have a better idea. Luke's plan was straightforward, and while it might be foolhardy enough to get them all cooked by Imperial turbolasers, it might also be just crazy enough to work. If she were the local commander, she'd never expect anybody to do anything so stupid. "Well..." she began.
"That's what I thought," Luke said. There was a small note of triumph in his voice when he said it, too.
"Not to put a governor on your drive or anything," Dash said, "but if we're going to sneak in the back way, it'll take some pretty fancy flying. Treetop-level stuff to avoid local sensors. Might have to drop into the Grand Trench canyons." He looked at Lando.
"Even if that piece of Corellian junk you're in doesn't fall apart, you think you can manage it?" Lando said, "You flew it? 7 can fly it." "Yeah, well, I was in the Outrider when I did it." "The Millennium Falcon has had a few modifica- tions since I owned her," Lando said.
Chewie said something.
"That right?" Dash said. "Where'd you get sublight engines that fast?" Chewie said something else, waved his left arm.
Dash grinned. "Yeah, I guess Solo would be dumb enough to do something like that." He nodded at Luke and Wedge. "Okay. If you can keep the TIE fighters and the Destroyers busy, I can get Lando to where Boba Fett's ship is." Chewie said something. Leia figured she knew what it meant. He was offering to go along.
"You don't have to, pal," Lando said.
Chewie spoke again.
"Thanks, I appreciate it." "Count me in, too," Leia said.
"I don't know if that's a good idea-" Leia interrupted him. "You don't think the Imperial commander is going to send all his TIEs out to deal with a dozen X-wings, do you? He's bound to have somebody on the planet. If they start shooting at the Falcon, you'll need somebody to shoot back. If Chewie is in the dorsal turret, who is going to cover your belly?" Lando and Luke looked at each other. Luke shrugged. "She's right. And she's a good shot." "Thank you," Leia said.
"Okay, I guess that's it," Wedge said. "The boys'll be glad to fly under your command for this mission, Luke." "Thanks, Wedge." Dash said, "Want to see something, kid?" Luke looked at him.
"Through that door there." Luke walked toward the door. Curious, Leia fol- lowed them.
Dash opened the door, into another large, hangar- like room.
"Wow," Luke said.
Leia looked through the doorway.
A ship sat perched on the cheap plastic flooring. It had smooth lines, heavy cannon mounted above and below, and it shined with a dark gleam, like chrome. It was almost the size of the Millennium Falcon and had an offset cockpit module, but that was as close as it got. This ship was a top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art craft; Leia had seen enough ships to recognize that it was something special.
A droid stood next to it, a stripped-down skeletal model with a tool bag slung over one shoulder.
"The Outrider," Dash said. "And my droid, an LE-66 he answers to 'Leebo,' when he bothers to answer at all. He thinks he's funny." "How'd you afford a ship like that?" Luke said.
"Well, it wasn't clean living. You like it?" Luke nodded. Leia could see he itched to inspect the vessel, to climb into it, to see what it would do with him at the controls.
Like boys with an expensive toy, she thought. She hoped the mercenary who owned it could fly half as well as he claimed. This didn't sound as if it was going to be an easy trip.
Leia stared at the Outrider. She was about to risk her life again, and that wasn't something you got used to doing, even when it was necessary. That she was going to risk it to rescue Han somehow made it worse.
That she would be that... vulnerable, to want something-no, someone-so badly was scarier still.
She could justify putting herself at risk for the Alliance; that was of galactic importance. But to do it for the love of a man... ?
She'd never thought it would happen. Her dedica- tion to the Alliance, to defeating the Empire, had never allowed for much of a personal life. Oh, sure, there had been friends, even some with whom she'd been close, but she had always thought that her life would be spent fighting against the Emperor and his evil. She'd never seen herself falling in love, settling down, having a home or children. Probably that wouldn't happen any- way, given all that could get in the way, but at least it was a possibility now. Assuming they could find and free Han. Assuming they could escape and not get killed in the process.
Assuming Han had any real interest in her. He hadn't said the words. She'd believed he felt the same thing, but he hadn't said it.
Big assumptions, those.
Well. They'd just have to see. One thing at a time.
One thing at a time.
7 Darth Vader held his lightsaber firmly, wrists locked, and watched the killer droid circle to its left. The droid was a new model, one of a dozen identical units con- structed to his personal specifications. Like Vader, it also held a lightsaber. It was tall, spindly, looked some- thing like the general-purpose Asps to be found all over the Empire, but with a number of special modifications.
The unit was faster than an ordinary man, stronger, programmed with the knowledge of a hundred sword masters and a dozen different fighting styles. Against a normal person, the droid would be unbeatable and deadly- The droid stepped in fast and cut at Vader's head.
Vader blocked, and the droid chopped again, circling the humming blade in a second cut at Vader's side.
Fast, but again a block- The droid's third attack came from the opposite side as its blade flashed in a large half circle- Vader parried and riposted, angling a slash at the droid's head- The droid blocked and slid back a meter, out of range, blade held over its head, point angled down.
The slight ache in Vader's shoulder where Luke had cut through his armor during their fight was definitely better. He hardly felt any soreness at all with that se- ries.
He moved in, swung a feint at the droid's neck, twisted his wrists, and pivoted the lightsaber for a sec- ond feint at the same side, then a third feint, a jab at the midsection.
The droid stepped back and crossblocked the final feint- Vader V-stepped to his left, cocked his blade over his left shoulder, and hacked forty-five degrees at the base of the metal neck- The droid's block was a quarter second slow. Strong as it was, it was not str
ong enough to offset the power and momentum of Vader's strike. The blades met, hissed and sparked, but Vader's sword shoved the droid's blade to the side. It tried to backpedal- Too late. The lightsaber hit midway between the droid's neck and shoulder joint, sheared through the exoframe and halfway through the chest. Circuitry sparked, shorted out. Sparks and acrid smoke erupted from the droid's body. It dropped the lightsaber as its hand controls died. Fell to its knees.
Vader cocked the weapon over his right shoulder and swung in a flat horizontal arc- The lightsaber sliced through the droid's neck and took its head off. The head fell, bounced, and the droid's decapitated body fell backward.
Vader stood over the downed droid. Soon he would have to order another dozen of them produced-this was the eighth one of the originals; he had but four left.
Star Wars - Shadows of the Empire Page 6